


Crosshairs

by DizzyChickStar



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Backstory, F/F, F/M, Jenny ships Ichabbie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4523703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyChickStar/pseuds/DizzyChickStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenny wants Abbie and Crane to take their relationship to the next level and stop pussyfootin' around.  They are about to be on her last nerve with the foolishness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crosshairs

          As it had when they were children, it thrilled Jenny to no end each time she dusted Abbie in a foot race. Less than fourteen months separated them and Jenny had been an early walker, so although she trailed behind big sis in some areas of her life, she could always overtake her by foot. And she knew exactly what it was that always gave her an edge. It wasn't her form and it wasn't her stride. Those varied immensely depending on her mood, the terrain, and who (or lately) what she was running from. What allowed Jenny to win each time wasn’t what she did, rather it was what Abbie wouldn’t do. While Jenny would run until she was blue in the face, breaths coming in spastic gasps, Abbie wouldn’t. While Jenny would cross into Abbie’s lane or take a short cut, Abbie stuck to the main drag. Jenny would even run until stars danced behind her eyes, until her off brand Lunchables lined the nearest ditch. Abbie wouldn’t. And though Abbie seemed to take her defeats in stride, she clearly wanted to win. Jenny knew this; it’s why she kept on goading her older sister to race. But she also knew Abbie could never beat her as long as she maintained the perfect runner’s form, conserved her winded breaths, and stuck to the paved track. Sometimes you had to get a little dirty, make up your own rules, and pick up a sprain or two in the process. This something or lack of it on Abbie’s part didn’t just pertain to running, Jenny thought. _Hell, even their childhood coloring books told the story._ Their “My Little Pony Adventures” book was the subject of many a sisterly spat. For Abbie, each pony must appear as it did in the cartoon, lines carefully traced over in a heavy hand to be followed up with an even application of Rose Art or whatever orphaned crayons they’d managed to cobble together. But Jenny thought it fun to add white out, paste, or even Play doh, that one _really_ inspired time.

          Abbie’s failed racing philosophy (and strict coloring credo) also related to relationships, specifically her partnership with Ichabod Crane, the reanimated revolutionary soldier. When Jenny'd first met Crane, she could tell he appreciated her tumbling curls and slim figure, the way most men did. There was nothing sexual (too bad) in the way his eyes sparkled at her or in the snarky humor he couldn’t quite contain; she'd instead felt an instant kinship with him, particularly since he didn’t believe she was crazy. _Those baby blues were damned perceptive._ But when he’d thawed her out enough, adding Abbie to the mix, she immediately picked up on some sort of vibe between them, a nameless crackling chemistry. It was there in Crane’s earnest tones as he pleaded Abbie’s case, as he believed the best of her until Jenny shattered that illusion. It was there in Abbie’s newly hopeful face, the wonder in her voice when she described her connection to Ichabod. It was there in the easy chorus of their laughter and the ~~heat~~ tension in their shared looks. And the nature of their pairing, the whole he saved me, she saved me bit was even set in Holy Writ, she’d learned. To be perfectly honest, she'd felt a little jealous. _Abbie gets the calling; Abbie gets the guy._ Jenny’s lifestyle of travel, battle, and part time demon possession made forming lasting relationships complicated at best and impossible more often than not.

          Imagine her surprise and (somewhat perverse delight) in finding out he was taken. Kind of. Now _that_ was complicated, what with the whole Purgatory business, the whole Witnesses (bodies pressed together) making heartfelt pledges business, the whole Crane cock-blocking every Luke, Andy, Calvin, (Orion?) _even damned Hawley_ business, the whole The wife’s going back to the Horseman of Death business, and let’s not forget the whole You don’t have to go out on a date with your own wife business, Abbie once spit. The line where friend, fellow Witness, and the potential for something more ended was decidedly blurred, even before Katrina went all Dark Willow. Suffice it to say, the two of them had been through the ringer, personally and professionally this year.   They’d emerged victors, the Big Bad dealt with, the future battles to look toward, all while enjoying their current relative peace. The thing is, Jenny reasoned, this wasn’t real peace, at least between those two. This was a stalemate. She knew it. They knew it. And she, the same fighter she’d always been, wasn’t satisfied sitting back and allowing her sister and her good friend Crane to ignore what was obvious to everyone, even a headless horseman. For the first time in their lives, she was rooting for Abbie to win the race, dirty her kicks a bit. To borrow Abbie’s own words to Sutton, a lot had changed in close combat techniques over the centuries. Those of the heart, in particular. Crane’s continued closeted pining and Abbie’s determined avoidance had begun to set her teeth on edge. The kind of special something they had was nothing to dick around with and they needed to get a move on soon. At least talk about things. Past, present, pride and all. Time out for playin’. Jenny’d set the two of them in her crosshairs. They’d never even see her coming.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have an idea for how I'd like this to go...not telling just now...Jenny's efforts will produce happiness or heartache for the witnesses. 
> 
> This piece takes place before my Troubling Waters series.


End file.
